Chapter One
Ihadn’t spoken a word in almost ten years, yet one language existed that all men understood.
The silver buckle of his belt dug into my gut as I wrapped my thighs more solidly on top of him. Thinning fabric over the stranger’s crotch barely contained the bulge of his cock as it tried to reach me through the layers between us. I smothered a frown and forced a lazy smile to stretch across my face. I couldn’t risk him catching sight of my repulsion. I needed him, and I needed what resided in his pants.
In his pocket, to be more exact.
The man leaned into me, spurred on by my invitation, and settled his lips near my ear.
“You smell… good.” He hiccupped. The scent of sour ale and old bread wafted over my face. I froze before my nose wrinkled. Instead, I tilted my head to the side, peeked beneath my heavily lined eyelashes, and nodded.
“You know I can make it real good.” He tried to focus on my face, but the plethora of drinks shrunk his attention to mere moments. Good, only a few more ales and I’d be able to steal my prize from his pocket and flee this dreadful establishment. “I can make it… the best night of your… life.”
Well, he certainly couldn’t make it theworstnight of my life. Fortunately or unfortunately, the worst night I’d ever experienced occurred over a decade ago – the same one that stole my voice and my birthright.
His dirty, calloused hands reached for me again. I snatched the full mug of ale from the table and darted it between us to quell his reach. His aim collided with the mug, splashing amber liquid over the wooden edge. I could have avoided the spilling drink, as my own wits remained since I’d only pretended to indulge, but I let the booze splash against me. The coolness proved shocking, and gooseflesh spread over my chest, but the stranger’s gaze followed the pathway the ale took against my skin. My simple brown slip remained thin enough for the perky buds of my nipples to peek through.
I wanted to vomit at the look on his face. Lust turned to obsession in a heartbeat. His mind ejected everything except the desire to sink his cock deep inside me until he retreated to bed, spent, and never cared to see me again.
He thought me a common wench.
His mistake.
I leaned forward and cradled the mug in both hands. The tip of my tongue slipped between my lips and teased at the edges, enough to raise his attention from my bosom to my face. I set the mug against his lips, and he opened his greedy mouth to gulp the ale down.
One. Step. Closer. The plan I’d derived for the better part of five years was almost complete. I would soon hold the final piece of the spell to lift the damnable curse on me and my family. I could almost feel victory on my flesh. What release would speaking my first word in ten years bring? When my throat finally turned free? I could barely imagine it.
But first, I needed the orb in this man’s pocket.
“Tell me, woman.” He took the empty mug from my hand with a shaky grip and sat it on the table alongside the others. “Tell me how you want this cock tonight.”
He reached for his belt between my legs and I sat back to give him room. His clumsy fingers rattled the buckle, but it didn’t budge.
The man grunted and shifted on the chair. He ducked his head, finally breaking his view of my body, and fumbled more with the latch.
Oh, for numens’ sake.I pushed his hands out of the way and unlatched the buckle myself. Forgotten was the wench playing her seductive part. My impatience bleed through the act, and when I looked up, his wide eyes held a new expression.
Suspicion.
Damn.I plastered that smile back on my face, the one that said I was drunk too, and very eager to see whatever I’d just unleashed from his pants. Any hint of suspicion could be my downfall and my family’s execution.
The stranger’s gaze softened again. Tension slipped from my body, and I let out my breath. I would not die tonight. I refused to get this close and then fail.
The man reached for his crotch again, but that gaze continued to slip from softness to dreaminess. So it took the sixth cup of ale to lull him over the edge of unconsciousness. I’d begun to worry it may take several more, and my limited coins dwindled.
He abandoned his quest for his cock and leaned his head against the rim of the chair.
“I think you can do it,” he said, lids sealed shut, words slurring into the next. “I’ll sit here and close my eyes.”
The stiffness left his body. His head drooped, mouth gapping open. No part of him remembered I perched upon his lap, dripping wet, slipping my hands into his belt only moments before.
Good.
I leaned forward, maintaining the appearance of my role for another few moments. From the corner of my eyes, I scanned the tavern. Patrons leaned against the wooden bar, damp from sweating drinks, or clustered around tables. Everyone had their own agenda. Get drunk or get laid, and I didn’t much care. With the tempting scent of fresh food and the ever-flowing rivers of booze, nobody looked my way.
A bulge pressed from the man’s side, much too large to be the cock he’d boasted about before. It must be the orb, promised by the prophecy created when the witch cursed my family. The one thing that could break this spell.
No tales to tell in the dark of night,
